“The Chinese or maybe the Russians could be involved. Both would benefit if they sent Paris Industries into a tailspin.” Peter waved to the bartender and pointed to his empty glass.
“I’d look at the Kanzi military and political party officials. Fifteen years working in Africa showed me the corruption and greed inherent in the political system in Kanzi, from the national government on down.” Ahmed’s voice had a hitch to it, as if he was tamping down anger.
Thea toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “When we lived in Kanzi, tribal infighting played a prominent role in politics. Maybe this is about an internal power struggle?”
“You could be right. Can’t ignore the timing,” Ahmed said. “The locals are angry about the potential loss of jobs.”
Peter turned to her. “Ahmed wants to import our entire labor force, but we can’t do that. We need to train the Kanzi people, as Christos insisted we do. Otherwise, our bottom line, too, will be adversely affected.”
“I’m the one who has to get the job done. You just want to cut costs,” Ahmed said.
Turmoil in the C-suite. It could mean something, or it could just be business as usual.
The bartender appeared with Peter’s refill.
“Let’s worry about the details once we win this deal. The Chinese will be tough to beat. One of our main advantages is that Paris Industries is a family business. Christos is personally invested in the country’s welfare. Of course, with him absent, it’ll be difficult to use that angle now.” Peter’s hand trembled on his glass, his face puffy.
The opening she’d been looking for. “My father always believed that family was key to his relationships in Kanzi. Is there some way I could help?”
Peter wrinkled his nose, remaining silent.
Ahmed straightened his tie. “Would you consider making a short speech during our opening? Our communications people could help you write it.”
Perfect. “I’ll do anything to help make this deal happen in my father’s absence. Count me in.” It would give her a front-row seat to the action with only a brief detour from the search.
“Excellent.” Ahmed glanced down at his watch. “Would you like a ride on the company jet? It’s all prepped, and I’d like to arrive as early as possible. Wheels up in half an hour.”
“I have to finish a few things first. I’ll take my father’s personal jet.”
Peter finished his drink in one quick swallow. “Actually, any chance I could fly with you, Thea? I have some errands to run, so I could use the extra time in Athens.”
“Sure, we have room. Let’s meet in the lobby in three hours.” She was happy to keep him close.
“See you both in Kanzi,” Ahmed said.
They all stood, Peter quite wobbly. His eyes were glassy, and she wasn’t sure it was just the alcohol. He didn’t look well.
She texted the undercover security operative she’d stationed in the lobby. He’d tail Peter so she could find out exactly what the CFO was up to.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Thea sank into the cream leather couch on her father’s Gulfstream 5. Her body ached, her head throbbed, and her stomach growled. The last couple of days had taken their toll.
Brianna, the flight attendant, brought them sandwiches from the galley. Thea surreptitiously checked her levels, then ate a turkey and provolone on rye to keep her blood sugar levels stable. She reached for a sugar-free mint from her 5.11 Tactical SINK—survival insurance nightmare kit—which had everything but the kitchen sink in it. With all the international travel she did, often at a moment’s notice, she never knew what equipment she might need. The kit also held medical supplies, everything from test strips to lancing devices.
Diabetes meant planning ahead, counting carbs, and keeping a close eye on her blood sugar. She’d been diagnosed at age ten, but her father hadn’t babied her. He’d wanted her to take the illness seriously, be proficient in her own care. She’d practiced injecting an orange with a syringe over and over before she’d been ready to poke herself. Now needles were part of her life and didn’t bother her at all. She was more antsy about flying—not exactly her favorite activity, undoubtedly because she had no control.
To distract herself, she mulled over the intel Rif had shared with her before the flight. He’d been to Kanzi countless times over the years. In fact, he kept in contact with several former Special Forces friends working in Africa, so he had access to current security reports.